


Damn it, Sandy.

by APurpleAvacado



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Jack/Pitch - Freeform, M/M, a TINY bit of swearing. Nothing excessive, awkward first date, copious amounts of giggling, cuteness hopefully, giftfic, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APurpleAvacado/pseuds/APurpleAvacado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Giftfic for Christmas, just for scarecrowqueen.</p><p>The prompt: An awkward first date in which Kozmotis in convinced he is messing up from start to finish. Of course, perhaps Jack thinks otherwise?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn it, Sandy.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scarecrowqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarecrowqueen/gifts).



This all started with a conversation involving what can only be described as a mutual friend. This was a mistake. This was a disaster. This is exactly what happens when your cousin convinces you it's a good idea to 'get back out there', as it were. How could he have known that his 'dear' cousin would do this to him? And how could he have let it happen? He wasn't meant for this sort of thing. He planned. He waited and he thought and he did not go on blind dates. Sandy had said this...person he was meant to be seeing was like a breath of fresh air or some other...foolishness...like that.

Sanderson must have thought him a miserable human being if he was being treated to the personification of fresh air on a cool summer's day by the seaside where said air was rendered slightly bitter and forced to carry the weight of seagulls with a squawk so irritating that it made him want to rid the world of that particular species of bird. Of course, it was either them or hummingbirds and he had had a terrible experience with a hummingbird in his younger years, so in the terms of annihilating a singular species of bird, he could only say that he was bias.

Still, birds were not the issue. The issue was how it was he had actually agreed to what he had. The issue was how he had managed to find himself inside a restaurant – finely dressed in a form-fitting black suit that gave a gently deep violet sheen when it caught the light. He felt over-dressed. What if this date of his turned up in something more casual? What if he wasn't wearing a tie? What if he wasn't wearing a jacket. What if he was wearing trainers? He didn't even know his date's name. He didn't know his date's gender. Sanderson was well-aware of the fact that he was interested in men, despite his marriage (now ended) to his wife and the birth of his daughter. He appreciated both genders, although his wife and been the only real female-interest he had taken in his life. His daughter was the only real gem to have come from that marriage.

The restaurant was bright, elegant, glasses for water and wine, an array of cutlery and several plates. This might not have been Sanderson's best choice of restaurant for a first date. First date? Only date. Under normal circumstances, He would have felt completely comfortable in a place like this. Money was not a concern, but he and Sanderson did not travel in the same circles. He did not make a point to ask where it was this date of his was supposed to have come from. What if his date was not familiar with such...extravagance. What if he thought he was some sort of pompous prick?

He had ordered red wine – a bottle, chilled in a bucket off ice that sat on a stand beside their table, waiting to be opened upon his date's arrival. He had been early, but his date was now late...which was not a promising start to the evening. What had Sanderson told the other? What if he was thought to be repugnant? Why would Sanderson share information with the other about him and not give him the same pleasure? Why had he even agreed to this? It wasn't as if he was lonely or anything.

Definitely not lonely. 

The distant din of restaurant-goers became less so as he came back to himself, bringing his hands together upon the table as he waited. He was beginning to feel almost self-conscious. He had been married to his wife for a majority of his adult life, and had been dating her for most of his teenage years. For all his confidence in all other areas of his life...this aspect...this was his Achilles heel. 

“Kozmotis...?”

Alarmed, he jumped to his feet, barely managing to save a glass from tipping over as his hip nudged the table almost violently. Turning, the glass still loosely gripped in his hand, Kozmotis turned, grey eyes widening slightly, only to look more bewildered when the...boy? Before him let out a chortle.

“Nice save.” He said. Apparently, the fright he had given Kozmotis was enough of a confirmation of his identity to give him the confidence to move to the far side of the table and take a seat across from him. Kozmotis couldn't believe he'd already made an ass of himself.

Kozmotis, stunned into silence, could only retake his seat slowly, gold-flecked gaze following the pale-haired boy as he moved. He watched the other's white (yes white...a great deal of product must have gone into producing the look) hair sway slightly which each movement he made. The suit looked cheap. It wasn't perfect, and neither was it's presentation. The jacket was unbuttoned, as was the button of the collar, which was closed only by a tie in a somewhat lax half Windsor knot. His shirt was tucked in, so that was a bonus, his trousers were tight...they were jeans, Kozmotis realised, when he looked closer. Tight-fitting and the same navy blue as his jacket, which passed it off nicely as a casual suit. His shoes were neat...they looked new, actually, from what he had seen of them.

After what he realised was a somewhat awkward pause, he replaced his glass upon the table and cleared his throat. “You know my name.” He started, drawing a raised brow from the smaller man across from him. “But I do not know yours.”

“Jack,” the pale-haired boy- no, man. Said. “Jack Frost.”

“Kozmotis Pitchiner.”

“I know,” Jack said with a chuckle, his head tilting to the side as he offered Kozmotis what he thought could only be a cheeky smirk. “Sandy told me all about you.”

It was Pitchiner's turn to raise a brow “You know my full name and more besides it seems.” He observed, resisting the urge to frown. “But I was told nothing whatsoever about you.” a pause, in which Jack let out a breath of laughter and shaking his head minutely. “I feel as if I am at a disadvantage.”

Jack shrugged “I guess you are.”

Kozmotis couldn't help but smirk at the blunt response. Indeed, he was. “Wine?” He asked, reaching for the wine in the bucket beside them.

“Oh, no.” Jack said, waving a hand. “I don't really like red.”

Damn it.

Kozmotis inwardly winced. Of course. Why would Jack like red wine? Who in their right mind would like red wine when Pitchiner needed it to be liked.

“Of course,” He said, retracting his hand again, sitting back when the waiter approached with menus, which the pair took with polite smiles. For a time, the pair turned their attention to the menus in their hands, contemplating aloud occasionally, and briefly mentioning their likes and dislikes when it came to food. Apparently, they shared a few of each...which was good. The only good thing to have happened so far in Pitchiner's book. Of course, once Kozmotis had finally taken a closer look at the other, he found it difficult to direct his gaze away from the other's icy blue orbs, especially when the other was not looking at him.

They ordered after several minutes, and Kozmotis took the opportunity to have the wine taken away, and ordering a white wine with Jack's consent, because there was no point in ordering yet another drink that the boy – man, would not like.

“All right.” Kozmotis started with an irate frown and an annoyed tinge to his tone “How old are you.”

The pale-haired boy looked bewildered for a moment, before he laughed, grinning “I'm twenty-five.”

“You look fifteen.”

Again, Jack shrugged “I have one of those faces, I guess.”

“What?” Kozmotis started almost sceptically “gentle, smooth, ageless?”

“Smooth and ageless?” Jack parroted with amused incredulity.

God damn it, Kozmotis. He thought to himself. Say something weird, why don't you. He won't mind. “I suppose so.” He said as stoically as he could. This was going terribly. He was saying and doing all the wrong things and had hardly come off as smooth. Sanderson was going to pay for this is it was the last thing he ever did, because this was obviously not his fault. Kozmotis was blameless. Completely blameless.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Not unless you enjoy being called a boy.” Kozmotis said again, as dully as he could manage.

“You think I'm a kid?”

“Yes-” Wait! “No.” A pause “Of course...you just look so young.”

“So I'm incapable of looking after myself?” The other boy was leaning forward in his seat, brow raised and tight-lipped, but by now Kozmotis could only guess that he was trying to resist the urge to smile and show off those pearly whites of his. 

“No-”

“You think I'm a baby.”

“No, I-”

“You think I'm after someone who can take care of me.”

At that, Kozmotis slammed his hand down on the table and snapped “Will you let me speak!” He demanded loudly, and firmly, his golden-flecked silver eyes narrowing pointedly and drawing the attention of the other restaurant goers.

There was the most brief of stunned silences before, Jack sat back in his chair, and bursting into a fit of laughter, so raucous that within moments, a waiter approached them and told them to contain themselves as they were disturbing the other guests. At that, Kozmotis cleared his throat and apologised, making a mental note to leave a very large tip at the end of the meal.

“Oh my god, you're hilarious.” Jack said through dying chuckles.

As much as Kozmotis thought he was anything but a funny man, he thought it better to be amusing at this point than anything else. At least then, he would not be considered a waste of time and a poor prospect for a relationship. 

Kozmotis smiled, however reluctantly.


End file.
